


Bittersweet

by lysanatt



Category: Haru o Daiteita, Haru wo Daiteita (Embracing Love), Nitta Youka
Genre: BL, M/M, Manga, WMLM, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-04
Updated: 2010-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaki Masahiko's life didn't turn out like he wanted it to. His brother's and Katou Youji's shameless behaviour doesn't make it easier to cope with more than thirty years of repressed... repression. But Masahiko is forced to look at the way he has lived his life until now and on his values he thought he had established so firmly. Serious changes are bound to happen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> About Japanese furniture: _kotatsu_ are low tables with a heater and a heavy quilt under the tabletop. Often used to sleep under when it is very cold. _Kakebuton_ is the top part, the "duvet" part of a futon set.

**Bittersweet**

The night had been long and remarkably hot. Winter had held the large house in a crushing embrace for days and neither the kerosene heaters nor the _kotatsu_ with its delightful electrical heater that created little squares of confined warmth had been enough to chase the frost out of the building. The water had become ice in the pipes. There was nowhere to find relief.

Except at night. When the darkness fell and Kyousuke and that lover of his, Katou-kun, disappeared into the room they shared during their stay at the Iwaki family residence, heat and warmth came back to chase the winter away.

Masahiko was so very tired of the nightly sounds. He wasn't yet used to sleeping alone and he missed Fuyumi. _It is the only time I see you, Masahiko-san, at night,_ she had told him before she had taken their daughter and returned to her parents' home. _I know you have responsibilities to the company but you have a family, too_, she had said, for the first time in their long marriage raising her voice against him. _Are you going to do something before it is too late?_ she had demanded, teary-eyed. Masahiko hadn't known what to say. She was right, but what could he do if she wouldn't live up to her duty as his wife? She had waited for his answer, and since he had none, she had left. A few weeks later she had asked for divorce. Despite the shame and the humiliation, he had granted it. There were no valid arguments to make her come back to him. He was a failure as a husband.

Now he was alone. Maybe that was what had made Kyousuke and Katou-kun feel they needed to keep him company during Christmas and New Year. Christmas meant nothing to Masahiko; what did he care for foreign customs? Nevertheless, he was riddled with two lovebirds who did little to hide their disgraceful inclination.

Masahiko turned restlessly under the down _kakebuton_. He had pulled off his pyjama, but he still felt so hot. He buried his face in the pillow, but the wooden floor mercilessly carried the sound of Kyousuke's dark voice begging for _more_ and for _deeper_. Katou-kun's lighter voice was rough from arousal and moans; golden and unpolished, just like Katou-kun himself. Masahiko felt like he was on the verge of going insane. He had managed to ignore the blood rushing through his loins and the insistent throbbing of... something he preferred to pretend wasn't his. But the futon was burning hot, and Masahiko was sweating, despite the icy feeling of chilled air around his naked feet that he, in a desperate attempt to punish himself, had uncovered. Masahiko was not ready to deal with the repressed urges his body insisted it was time to unveil. Sleep came late, and only when the stars on the winter sky were fading with Kyousuke's relieved cries.

  
Masahiko's distress took a turn for the worse. He came home from the family business's office on Christmas eve, only to discover that his stylish and traditional Japanese home had been turned into a Father Christmas-induced hell while he had been working to keep things together. Someone (probably Katou Youji) had dragged a bloody tree into the bloody living room and decorated it with glitter and ornaments - some of which Masahiko, even at limit of his imagination had troubles guessing the function of. Katou-kun (the annoying instigator of this, Mashiko was certain) and Kyousuke were cuddling up on the modern sofa under woollen blankets. The room smelled deliciously of herbs and spices. Masahiko recognised a traditional Christmas cake amongst other foreign delicacies.

'Iwaki-san!' Katou called. 'Come and have a piece of cake and some mulled wine!'

Masahiko would rather have even the simplest _onigiri_ than the brown cake, but as usual when Katou-kun was involved, there was no way around it. Masahiko rolled his eyes. If only Kyousuke had chosen someone a bit more manageable. But no, of course he had to find the most annoying, loud, irritating, persistent, attrac-

Oh.

Masahiko pushed the unwelcome thought away and put his briefcase down, reluctantly walking over to the large sofa. Katou-kun untangled himself from Kyousuke and poured a glass of cinnamon and clover-scented wine for Masahiko.

'This'll do you good,' Katou smiled and held out the cup as Masahiko sat down and stuck his feet under the kotatsu to keep his feet warm.

'When is this,' Masahiko waved his hand, including everything that didn't belong in a proper Japanese home, 'going to be removed? It better be out before New Year.'

'Iwaki-san, please, let us have a bit of Christmas,' Katou begged, looking like a puppy at Masahiko. 'It is so romantic and cosy.'

Kyousuke and his lover did indeed look unsuitably romantic, the way they were unable to behave like decent people, sitting far too close together and with entwined fingers. Masahiko huffed and took the cup he was offered. 'All right, then,' he allowed, annoyed over the couple and the way they had taken over the house. He took a deep drink of the warm wine. It tasted better than he had imagined; it had raisins and almonds in it as well as the spices. It didn't take long for him to drink the entire cup. The alcohol sent him leaning against the backrest, somewhat more relaxed. Masahiko had never been one for the extensive drinking that sometimes occurred during business dinners. He didn't hold his alcohol well.

When Katou smiled and offered Masahiko a refill, he couldn't say no. Maybe Katou-kun and Kyousuke were right: a bit of that foreign Christmas cheer was not entirely bad. The wine, at least, was good. Holding the cup in one hand, Masahiko sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, missing the wicked smile Katou sent Kyousuke. When Masahiko opened them again, he was staring into Katou-kun's glittering eyes. Masahiko couldn't breathe. 'What-' he managed, gasping for air, before Katou leaned forward and pressed his lips against Masahiko's mouth, rendering him speechless as well as breathless. The kiss was slightly wet and spiced bittersweet with the taste of fruits and wine and Christmas cake. 'What?' Masahiko spluttered, avoiding to spill the wine. 'How dare you!' His anger was spiced too, with the unspeakable desire that Masahiko had tried to repress; the desire for another man, for his brother's lover.

Katou just smiled that incredibly irritating and happy smile and pointed upwards. 'Mistletoe.'

'And why, if I may ask,' Masahiko sneered, 'does the presence of random greenery allow you to act in this unacceptable way? Have you no shame?'

'Very little,' Katou-kun flashed yet another of those wide smiles and Masahiko barely managed to control himself. 'I was in AV, remember? But this is tradition, Iwaki-san! To kiss anybody who stands under the mistletoe.'

'Katou...' Kyousuke's voice held a warning. 'Don't tease Masahiko so.'

'I am busy,' Masahiko managed, keeping his anger down. Oh, he remembered very well how Katou Youji had earned his money, without being told. And Masahiko was certain that if he exploded now, Katou and Kyousuke would both discover what was wrong with him. They would surely see that he was a detestable hypocrite of the worst kind; a pathetic wreck who was lusting for...

Masahiko stood, glaring angrily at Katou. Why couldn't he just be... normal? 'I have work to do,' he barked and put down the cup he had been holding on to, as if it could save him from himself. He left the room without even as much as a glance at his brother or the man he had brought home to disturb Masahiko's equilibrium.

  
That night Masahiko gave up and threw himself into the dark abyss he had used his whole life to avoid. When the well-known sounds from Katou-kun's and Kyousuke's room began, some time after midnight, he pushed a hand between his legs, touching himself, coming fast, with closed eyes relishing the memory of Katou's soft lips on his.

  
If failure had a name, it was "Ozaki Tomoyuki". Hence, Ozaki was glad to pull out the alias he had used as a host and brush it off, at least for some time forgetting his short time as a married man and the catastrophe that had been his marriage. Number one host Iwaki Kyousuke had been famous; the name still opened doors and made women (and quite a few men) gasp and blush. No, Ozaki was not entirely unhappy stepping away from the life he had had and back into the role as host club owner and manager. Since the ruined marriage had been Ozaki Tomoyuki's fault (at least according to the Ozaki family), he could just leave the name behind, taking up the life he had enjoyed before his feeble attempt to live up to a kind of normality that he had never truly liked. As Iwaki hadn't sold the clubs but merely hired competent managers, it was just a formality to continue where he had left.

Ozaki slid a finger over the polished brass plate on the door to his office. _Iwaki Kyousuke_, it said. It was new, like the rest of the decor. Tomorrow he would become Iwaki once more when host club _The Prince and Princess_ opened its doors to customers. Ozaki, on the other hand, closed the door to the office and left behind the name and the boring life he had hated so intensely.

Iwaki walked through the long corridor and into the club. His newly employed hosts were gathered, listening to the instructions that Kenzaki gave them. Kenzaki was getting older but he was still very beautiful - there was no doubt that the young men they had hired had to fight hard to reach Kenzaki's level. Tall, slender and handsome, Kenzaki was almost too good to keep off the floor. But a good manager was important, Iwaki knew that.

'Our new hosts, how are the doing?' Iwaki asked and stepped into the light from the chandelier. A few of the young men sighed and sent him dreamy doe-eyes. Iwaki let his eyes slide over them, one after the other, searchingly. Iwaki considered if he cared to take one of them as his playmate. It had been some time since he had had a male lover last - not since Takaaki, in fact - and he had had enough of women for some time.

'Owner-san.' One of the hosts - a tall, blond man - bowed submissively and sent Iwaki a sweet smile. Iwaki thought he could see a reminiscence of Takaaki, his first and only love. Iwaki nodded, turned his attention to the next of his pretty employees before he looked at the golden-haired boy again. No, Iwaki told himself, he was not going to repeat the mistake, falling for someone who was sweet and innocent. Iwaki wanted someone stronger, someone who could stand against him, someone who realised that Iwaki was something other than a _face_; more than a successful businessman: that he was a ruthless, cold money-maker. Iwaki was a not nice man, no matter how one chose to interpret the word. And he had no more patience for weaklings. Iwaki's next lover could either take the whole package - or leave it. 'Your name?' Iwaki demanded and raised the boy's face with a finger.

'Akira. Akira Hiroki.' The smile changed from sweet to flirtatious.

'Well, _Akira_,' Iwaki said, addressing his employee rudely by family name only. 'I suggest you limit your obtrusive behaviour to the part of our clientele who is paying for your services. I am not a customer, and I have no interest in playing with children. Don't ever make me emphasise this again.' Iwaki glared at the group of beautiful men, his black eyes sliding over them critically, harshly. 'That goes for all of you.' Iwaki turned around on his heel, leaving it to Kenzaki to smooth things out. That was why Iwaki had hired a manager. He was getting too old to deal with the love affairs and the intrigues and the pathetic power games that a group of competitive young hosts played. No one was going to use Iwaki gain any favours. Host number one at _The Prince and Princess_ would have to work hard for what he earned. Iwaki was done dealing with hosts - in bed or outside it.

Angrily, Iwaki strode out, grabbing his heavy winter coat from his office. The black woollen tailor made trench-coat that made him look even taller than he was. Iwaki pulled the coat on as he aimed for the exit. He needed some air to cool down - it had been too long since he had bothered with the problems that came with owning a host club - one of the small favours of the unbearably dull life as a married man. Iwaki pushed the door open; the lush mahogany and the brass handles shone in the dim light from the street light.

The door swung closed behind him with a low swoosh as he stepped out into the small arcade in front of the club. As he turned to walk outside, distracted by irritated mood, he managed to stop the moment before he bumped into a blond man who was studying the board that discreetly displayed the club's hosts: pretty pictures, all framed in mahogany. Iwaki had wanted a club classes above what he had owned before and had allowed no distasteful decor, neither inside nor outside the club. 'My sincerest apologies,' Iwaki managed, ignoring his bad mood. 'I didn't expect anyone to be here; we're not open yet.'

'I... Oh...' the stranger managed, blushing slightly, fidgeting with a black leather glove. 'I... sorry. I wasn't...'

Iwaki studied the stranger for a moment. The man wasn't young, maybe thirty five, forty or so. Mostly he looked like a deer caught in the light, ready to flee as soon as possible. A first-time customer, Iwaki thought, judging from the way the man acted. Iwaki knew how to handle insecurity, and he definitely didn't want to let a potential client slip through his fingers. Iwaki turned up his professional charm and sent the man a smile, ignoring the man's half-hearted denial of interest. 'Maybe I can help anyway,' Iwaki said. 'Although we are not ready to open until the middle of January, I am sure one of our hosts would be happy to accompany you to a cafe or bar for a drink... or two.' Iwaki leaned slightly against the wall in a posture that was slightly seductive, in his mind going through which of his hosts to send to lure this elegantly clad customer in. The man's coat was clearly expensive. He would be a good catch, and a new shop needed wealthy customers.

'No thank you.' It was as if the blatant offer made the man straighten up. The insecurity disappeared and was replaced with a hard expression in the dark eyes. 'I have no interest in drinking. Or other things,' he said bluntly, as if Iwaki had suggested something obscene. He sent Iwaki a dark glare before he huffed and took a step towards the pavement.

Iwaki had not been a number one host for nothing. He never gave up when he had set his eyes on his prey. He suddenly forgot that he was a middle-aged man, the honourable owner of this and several other host clubs. He forgot that he had work to do, and he forgot that he was angry and in the middle of the final stages before his new luxurious Niigata branch was ready to open its doors. Iwaki didn't realise that he wasn't in a situation where he could approach a customer. Even if he had realised already that he didn't want to back off.

No one turned Iwaki Kyousuke down. _No one_.

In three long strides, Iwaki was walking next to the man. 'You liked the look of Akira-kun, didn't you?' Iwaki asked softly, setting his pace to follow the customer. 'The lovely blond boy.' Iwaki paused as the man obviously didn't want to acknowledge his presence. 'Or maybe you were looking for a pretty girl?' There was of course the possibility that the man had taken _The Prince and Princess_ for a hostess club, only realising his mistake when he looked at the hosts' pictures. Then again, no. There was something about this person... the insecurity, the anger... the way he had studied the pictures... The customer had been looking for a man, maybe for the first time in his life.

'No, I-' The man stopped abruptly, once more looking like a lost child. 'Please, stop following me. I... can't. It was a mistake.'

_No girls_, then. Right, it was precisely as Iwaki had thought. He took a deep breath, examining the man. He was almost as tall as Iwaki, broad shoulders, beautiful face, marred by a tense, angry expression. Nevertheless the man was definitely not uneasy on the eye. He vaguely resembled the actor Iwaki shared his name with, apart from the blond hair. This one was more male, though, not as lean and elegant as actor Iwaki Kyousuke. Iwaki had met the actor once, in a disastrous television show that Iwaki preferred to forget all about.

'Stop following me,' the man repeated, having collected himself enough to send Iwaki yet another angry look. 'I am not interested in anything you have to offer.' The man's cold eyes glittered, as if there was a blazing fire somewhere deep down, somewhere hidden, waiting to be set free.

Iwaki _did_ stop. A sudden feeling of surprise and determination overwhelmed him. It had been ages since anyone has caught his fancy like this; ages since someone had dared speak to him so rudely. Inadvertently, this stranger had done what no other man had done for years: with his arrogant rejection hooking Iwaki to a point where he had forgotten his work and just about everything else. It felt a bit as having set a trap, then clumsily stepping into it with both feet. Shaking his head, Iwaki continued his steps. 'And what is it you think that I am offering, Onī-san?' Iwaki asked, not certain whether the man was actually older or younger than he. 'I am not a host. I am merely the president of the entire company,' he informed, slightly sarcastic.

'Don't address me in that way,' the stranger sneered. 'You are being rude.' He stopped and looked at Iwaki, the eyes angry and cold as if the fire Iwaki had seen earlier had been quenched.

'Then at least tell me your name so I can address you properly, please,' Iwaki pulled out a small box and took one of his own name cards, offering it to the man., that way forcing him to do the same as not to appear truly rude. 'I am very sorry for this improper introduction. Please forgive me,' Iwaki continued, neither sorry nor regretful. Iwaki was too used to manipulating his surroundings to be disturbed by his own lies. 'But I-' Iwaki hesitated. Unfortunately, he had no explanation for this odd, sudden infatuation, not even a lie that fit in. Maybe he didn't need one. Maybe, for once, he just needed to let go of his tight control and see where it got him. Letting the man leave without having arranged another meeting was, however, not an option.

The stranger took the card with a leather-clad hand. He looked at the small cream-coloured rectangle. Then his face slowly altered, and a for a moment he looked as if he was going to cry. He didn't. He let out a bitter huff that surprisingly ended in a roaring laughter, entirely contradicting his haughty demeanour. Iwaki just stared disbelievingly at the man as he murmured something about _could have stayed and let Katou-kun kiss me again... possibly not have been worse..._ and dried his eyes with a pristine handkerchief found in one of his jacket's deep pockets. So it was precisely as Iwaki had thought: the man had been looking for a male host.

The laughter died out and the tension with it, as if the controlled arrogance had been unable to stand the emotional outburst. 'My apologies,' the man said and gathered himself enough to find a name card too. 'I was less than polite.' He held out the card for Iwaki to take.

It was a beautiful card, printed on expensive paper. _Iwaki Masahiko_, it said. _President, Iwaki Industries_. An elite businessman. Iwaki _knew_ the bloody company. Large. Traditional. Old money. Something dawned upon him, something that explained Iwaki-san's bitter laughter. Wasn't this the family that...? So the Katou-kun who had kissed Iwaki-san was...? Oh. 'You're... actor Iwaki Kyousuke-san's brother?' Iwaki enquired.

'No,' Iwaki-san snapped. '_He_ is Iwaki Masahiko's brother. I was here first,' he added grumpily.

'I see,' Iwaki said, and did. It made sense. It had to be slightly tiresome to be defined by one's younger brother, especially when one was the president of a renowned company. 'I know what it is like to have family expectations weighing heavily on one's shoulders,' he said. 'My family is in the medical business. I didn't want to take over the company so I made my own.'

'Oh,' Iwaki-san repeated. 'I understand.' The tiny mutual piece of common ground seemed to further the sudden relaxed mood.

'A cup of tea or coffee, at least?' Iwaki asked, careful not to turn up the professional charm again. It wouldn't work on this guy anyway. He smiled, deciding not taking a potential no for an answer. 'There's a nice cafe just down the street.'

Iwaki-san was quiet for a moment; it was obvious that he was going over the possible consequences of being seen having coffee with another man at a place and time that clearly had nothing to do with work. 'I'm sorry, but-'

'Then at my club? I have a very nice office and the coffee is more than brilliant.' Iwaki didn't waver. 'Please, Iwaki-san?' Iwaki smiled, oddly shy, as if the realisation that there was no way he'd let this man slip away made him react somewhat strange.

'Mistletoe,' Iwaki-san said. 'If you can guarantee there is no mistletoe anywhere.'

'What?' Iwaki asked. 'Er, no. I am quite sure there is no mistletoe.' He stared at Iwaki-san, unable to keep a smile away from his lips. 'If I may say so I am not sure I understand. But I am willing to get rid of any offending botanical creations if Iwaki-san agrees to have coffee with me.'

  
It turned out that they had more in common than even Iwaki had thought. Iwaki-san was the type that Iwaki knew from his own family: hard-working, traditional, elitist. It was the type Iwaki usually didn't like: they were hard to manipulate because they stuck to their principles. With Iwaki-san seated in the new brown leather sofa with an exquisite cup of Papua New Guinea coffee in front of him, Iwaki studied his guest. He had the distinct notion that Not Being Gay was one of Iwaki-san's principles, judging from the man's odd behaviour earlier. It would be fun trying to break that wall down and see what was behind it. Passion, Iwaki was sure, and definitely high maintenance. This Iwaki-san was not quite like his brother - at least not like the Iwaki Kyousuke that the media showed: a sensitive, reserved, slightly insecure person, not aware of his own brilliance. No, Iwaki Masahiko knew he was good at what he did. But the insecurity and the softness lay there somewhere, hidden behind layers of traditions and masks.

Anyway, Iwaki-san was a businessman, and it turned out that principles of managing sake breweries and rice production and the manufacturing of high gradesoya were not that different from managing and selling high quality male company.

Iwaki poured another cup of coffee for Iwaki-san. 'Brandy,' he said, 'I have a thirty year old bottle.' Iwaki reached for two glasses and put them down on the low cherry coffee table. 'It's cold and I could do with a bit of extra warmth,' he said, not waiting for Iwaki-san to accept.

The second glass made Iwaki-san lean back in the sofa, loosening his tie a few millimetres; merely a small movement but enough to tell Iwaki that his guest was as relaxed as he probably was going to be unless Iwaki could force the entire bottle into the man. 'Not bad,' Iwaki-san commented and breathed in the scent of the drink. 'I was getting tired of all the Christmas sweet-' He interrupted himself. 'My apologies. My private affairs is no concern of yours, of course.' Iwaki-san bowed slightly.

Iwaki smiled, broadly. The brandy had worked the way he'd hoped. 'Still worried about mistletoe?' he asked, pondering how it would be possible to ask about Katou-kun and the kiss without scaring Iwaki-san away. Iwaki put his arm on the backrest, slightly intimately, and leaned forward a bit. 'I don't want to pry, but you really made me curious.'

Iwaki-san sighed. 'It's the Christmas cheer. My home was turned into a hell of blinking ornaments and... well, mistletoe. I wanted it gone by New Year; with the New Year's cleaning, but nobody cared to listen, of course. As usual.'

'I take it you have visitors for the holidays? Your brother and his... husband?' Iwaki was careful. It wasn't polite to ask, but he definitely wanted to know. Even if he hadn't decided that he had an interest in Iwaki-san, he'd have wanted to know.

A furious blush coloured Iwaki-san's cheeks. 'I- Y-yes.'

The sudden shyness was nothing less than adorable. It wasn't a word one would usually think of in connection with someone as strict and correct as Iwaki-san, but there was no other expression that covered it. Adorable. Oh damned, so adorable. Casually, Iwaki poured a third glass of brandy and handed it to Iwaki-san. 'And the mistletoe you mentioned? It caused... trouble?'

'You are too direct!' Iwaki-san snapped and tried to put down the glass, clearly miffed. 'It is none of your business!' He stared at Iwaki so angrily that Iwaki suddenly was glad _he_ wasn't an employee and under cold scrutiny of such a powerful company president. Iwaki made a small sigh as a thought of exactly where and why this unflinching gaze and strong dominance would be more enjoyable. Bloody hell, if this man could be unleashed in bed, even Iwaki (who was quite dominant himself) might give in. What a strange mix between soft and hard, between silk and steel. Iwaki was enchanted by this man he had known for less than an hour.

'I am truly sorry,' Iwaki said, keeping his voice low, almost a whisper. 'You don't need to tell me. Katou Youji-kun, I suppose? In combination with the mistletoe.' Iwaki didn't wait for the confirmation he knew would never come. 'He kissed you, and now you are having a hard time coping with the fact that you liked it?'

Making a half-choked sound, Iwaki-san was almost out of the sofa before Iwaki stopped him with a hand on his elbow. 'Iwaki-san... please stay. I know how it is; the first time I fell in love with a man, I-'

'You're _gay_?' Iwaki-san asked accusingly, all polish and politeness gone. 'What do you know? You didn't use years to condemn your brother's relationship with another man, then... this!'

'Seeing that I only have sisters, and they are both married to males, no. And I am not gay. I fell in love with a man once, slept with a few other guys, so what? If nothing else, I am sure your brother will forgive you and not hold it against you.' Iwaki hadn't moved his hand from Iwaki-san's arm and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. 'Are you married, Iwaki-san?'

'No! She... my daughter...' Iwaki-san took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'I'm divorced.'

'So? You have a successor, you are not hurting anyone, you have only yourself to answer to.' Iwaki thought that exact fact was probably the greatest hindrance for the man - that he had to fight breeding conflicting with emotion. 'Can't you just do what you want and like? Does everything have to be so rigid? You realised you didn't mind kissing a man, and no one his stopping you from doing it again.'

'Apart from the fact that I kissed my brother's lover! How wrong is that? I desire my brother's husband!' Iwaki-san was close to shouting and his appearance had deteriorated slightly; dishevelled hair and wild, angry, frustrated eyes.

Iwaki felt a bit like a shepherd who'd herded a panicking sheep to the edge of a cliff. It had been fun. Even if Iwaki-san fled now, it had been entertaining to watch. The man was falling apart beautifully, and god, Iwaki wanted to be there to collect the pieces and use them. If the man ever found out precisely how desirable he was... such power he would hold. 'Iwaki-san...shhh ,' Iwaki murmured, moving a bit in the seat, his thigh touching Iwaki-san's. Iwaki-san didn't move away, too busy being angry at himself to notice Iwaki's advances. 'Any sane person, no matter gender, would admit that Katou-kun is just about the best looking man in Japan, apart from your brother. Nothing to be ashamed of - it only proves that you have eyes. Hell, _I'd_ shag him if I got the chance.'

'It's my brother-in-law you're talking about so disrespectfully!' Iwaki-san pulled his arm out of Iwaki's grip. 'I don't want anyone to... _I_ don't want to...'

'Don't worry.' Iwaki put his arm back on the backrest, barely an inch from Iwaki-san's broad shoulders. 'I have no design on Katou-kun's virtue. It is just to say that I understand.' Sending Iwaki-san a calming smile, Iwaki put his other hand on Iwaki-san's knee. The man jerked, but didn't object. 'If I may suggest something? Just to demonstrate that infatuation is flighty.' Iwaki didn't wait for Iwaki-san's accept. 'You are not in love with him,' Iwaki said. 'You are just fighting your need and suppressed urges, Iwaki-san. It is not good for your body.' Iwaki _knew_ he had him now. 'This, on the other hand, is,' he whispered and leaned in, quietly letting his arm slide down to pull Iwaki-san closer. Pressing his lips against Iwaki-san's mouth, not too softly, Iwaki was determined not to be rejected.

'Iwa- oh!' Iwaki-san froze, stunned. He gasped, looking up, a questioning look in his eyes had replaced the anger.

'Let go,' Iwaki murmured, his lips moving over Iwaki-san's cheek. 'Just let go and do what you want. It's just kissing.' He rubbed the palm of his hand over Iwaki-san's back, as if calming a nervous race horse. 'Kiss me, Iwaki-san,' Iwaki urged, closing the minimal space between them. 'Free yourself of the thoughts of Katou-kun.'

Letting out the breath he had been holding, Iwaki-san's lips softened, by their mere lack of resistance inviting Iwaki to continue. Nibbling on Iwaki-san's lower lip, Iwaki did nothing to deepen the kiss, waiting for Iwaki-san to decide whether he wanted the kiss to go on, to be more passionate.

Tryingly, Iwaki-san touched Iwaki's side, hesitantly sliding his arm around Iwaki's waist. The kiss grew more heated, Iwaki-san's narrow lips opening, offering his mouth's soft warmth. Iwaki couldn't resist. He slid his tongue inside, tasting the bittersweet taste of coffee and brandy. 'Delicious,' he murmured, pausing to take a breath. This time it was Iwaki-san who pulled Iwaki closer, surprisingly demanding.

The man knew how to kiss; and Iwaki wasn't in doubt that Iwaki-san was used to been in charge in bed. Iwaki didn't mind, not at all - this wasn't some kind of pretend dominance; it was just how the man was. Without breaking the kiss, Iwaki leaned back, pulling Iwaki-san with him, arms closed around the man's admittedly interesting torso. Iwaki-san was muscular without being bulky, Iwaki could feel his muscles flex, hard and toned underneath the expensive shirt and jacket. There were no protests as Iwaki slid his hands further down, almost far enough to cup Iwaki-san's arse.

Sucking each other's tongues, they sank down on the sofa, Iwaki-san's thigh between Iwaki's legs. Iwaki was so hard his cock hurt, and he wished he could take this further. Only he was sure if he didn't wait, he would never see Iwaki-san again, and that was a possibility he discarded annoyingly soon.

'Iwaki-san... this is... Iwaki-san...' Iwaki-san was gasping for air, pushing up a bit to look down at Iwaki. 'Don't stop!'

Iwaki let out the loud moan he hadn't realised he has been holding on to for some time. 'Won't,' he managed and moved his hands to the spot he had wanted to in the first place. Iwaki-san's arse was small and firm and the touch made the man groan softly. Another kiss; with his tongue half way down Iwaki-san's throat, Iwaki pressed his thigh against the hardness that had been growing between Iwaki-san's legs.

The deep, throaty sound Iwaki-san made was so enticing that Iwaki wanted to hear it again. He pulled Iwaki-san closer, rubbing himself against the revealing erection. As if it wasn't difficult to breathe already, Iwaki's breath became ragged and loud as the friction and the kisses did their work. Iwaki-san wasn't unaffected. He let his hands wander; somehow one had made its way underneath Iwaki's shirt. It was warm and firm; the hesitation Iwaki-san had felt earlier was gone as he explored Iwaki's chest. A finger brushed a nipple and Iwaki moaned, arching up against the hand, wanting more, wanting it all. 'More,' he demanded, 'please, Iwaki-san!'

Iwaki-san's strong fingers closed around Iwaki's nipple, and the slight pain was enough. Damned, it had been ages since Iwaki had been so aroused. 'I can't... can't,' Iwaki moaned; now he was the one who was left incoherent and embarrassed. 'Can't hold back!' Iwaki didn't want to soil his trousers, but they needed to stop. Now. Or...

'Open them,' Iwaki-san ordered, making Iwaki startle. That was surprising. 'If I am going to go against everything I thought I was, I can just as well do it properly.' A soft cloth, probably Iwaki-san's handkerchief, brushed over Iwaki's hand.

'Yes... you?' Iwaki managed, forgetting his hard-earned host composure. This man was driving him further out in lesser time than Iwaki had ever imagined possible. 'Do you want to come too?' he asked, pulling down his own zipper to give Iwaki-san the access he'd wanted.

The only reply was another moan before Iwaki-san took Iwaki's mouth in possession.

Iwaki fumbled a little, pulling their erections together, rubbing soft skin against soft skin, before Iwaki-san managed to wrap the handkerchief around them both so their clothes wouldn't be soaked. None of them had any patience left, or the stamina to hold back. Iwaki-san made a deep sigh, as if this was what he had been waiting for. It probably was if he had suppressed his bisexuality all his life.

'Ah... so good,' Iwaki groaned, feeling utterly unable to withstand the hotness of their naked cocks. He gasped, arching up from the sofa, strung hard, before the release came, unstoppable; warm semen trickling over their entwined fingers. Breathless, in the throes of his orgasm, Iwaki opened his eyes, wanting to watch Iwaki-san's first orgasm with another man.

Iwaki-san was biting his lip, his skin flushed, a soft pink blossomed on his cheeks. Iwaki, in his less than alert state, concluded that his earlier assessment - that Iwaki-san was adorable - still held, despite the man's obvious need to be dominant. 'You are beautiful, Iwaki-san,' Iwaki murmured and realised it was true. With the serious, closed demeanour gone, Iwaki-san was as beautiful as his younger brother, making him a candidate for the title as the handsomest man in the country. Iwaki liked that only he was allowed to see that, to watch this transformation from serious businessman to unrestrained beauty. 'Beautiful,' he whispered again, and tightened his grip around Iwaki-san's cock, movements made easier by Iwaki's own semen smeared over it.

Over him, Iwaki-san moaned; it seemed like he had given up being quiet, and the sounds became louder as Iwaki with a few harsh strokes brought him to completion. Iwaki-san's half open moth and the way he gave in to the pleasure made Iwaki feel as if he was watching something precious and rare. Panting, Iwaki-san held himself up frozen in the moment of release, not moving; somehow adjusting, Iwaki thought, to the way his worldview had changed.

Carefully, Iwaki cleaned them both as well as possible with the soaked handkerchief before he guided the stunned man down to lie on the sofa. Iwaki-san was... pliable and didn't protest. 'Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?' Iwaki murmured. 'You see the difference now? Desire and love... they are not equal, Iwaki-san.'

'Don't,' Iwaki-san said, blushing as he closed his trousers. 'Not... not now.' He put an arm over his eyes, refusing to realise, maybe, where he was and what he had done.

'I'll get you some water,' Iwaki said, reverting the topic to something neutral. He went over to the small fridge in the corner, and took a bottle of mineral water. Before he had turned around, there was a rustle of clothes and the sound of the door opening and closing.

Iwaki Masahiko was gone.

  
'Good morning, Onī-san,' Katou grinned as Masahiko sat down at the dining table. 'Did you sleep well?'

'None of your business,' Masahiko sneered. He had slept brilliantly, satisfied and spent after the tryst with that host club owner. He had been disturbed, of course, by the pleasure such an unnatural connection had given him. At least it had chased the thoughts of Katou-kun away and made Masahiko able to sleep. 'When are you going to remove all this?' Masahiko continued, sending the now slightly outdated Christmas decoration on the dining table an evil glare. 'Hisako-san is not happy - the New Year's cleaning went down the drain, because of all your insane ideas.' Masahiko wanted Iwaki and Katou to be gone so he could have his house back and get back to his ordinary, normal life. So he could forget about... Masahiko breathed out, relieved, as he realised that the name and face that sprang to mind by the thought of kissing someone was no longer Katou's. Now he could forget about all those silly ideas of being attracted to men. If desire could be altered and redirected so easily, then it could be directed at a woman, just as it should be.

'Worried about the mistletoe?' Katou shot back. 'I promise, Iwaki-san, we'll take it down today.'

'No, I'm not.' Masahiko said, and opened the newspaper, ignoring both Katou and the conversation he was trying to get going. In another room a phone rang followed by a quiet murmur of Kyousuke answering the call. The soft swoosh of a paper sliding door made Masahiko look up.

'Someone who calls himself Iwaki Kyousuke wants to speak to you,' Kyousuke announced, waiting for Masahiko to reply.

Masahiko sat, as if carved in stone. He'd given Iwaki-san his business card, but... Masahiko hadn't thought this far. He had dipped a toe into the shark-infested and muddy waters of his own desires and wants for the first time in his life stepping away from the beaten path. Host club owner _Iwaki Kyousuke_-san... could there be a more inappropriate... whatever it was Iwaki-san wanted to be. He would not have called if he didn't want something. Masahiko couldn't dismiss the fact that the idea of seeing Iwaki-san again was not entirely appalling.

'Masahiko...' Kyousuke raised an eyebrow questioningly.

'Yes,' Masahiko said, a small smile on his lips. 'I'm coming.' He pushed his chair back and stood, taking the first insecure step away from the Iwaki Masahiko he had been, towards the Iwaki Masahiko he would become.


End file.
